The Post War Manuscript
by Athaen
Summary: This is the lives and the prophecy after the war had ended (Ultimecia defeated). Squall and the people his age are now 23. I'm not that good at writing summaries, so just read it!
1. Default Chapter

Final Fantasy VIII: The Post War Manuscript  
Prologue: Hope's Prophesy  
  
  
  
Squall sat there on his bed, thinking of the time that had passed. He had been raised in garden to be a soldier. However, his work was finished. His new life seemed so different, contrary to his previous life. He had been trained to defend, to fight. Now...he was a normal nineteen-year-old man, engaged to Rinoa Heartilly, the girl of his dreams. He never figured out why he still remained cold. All he knew is that he had a fire within his heart...he loved her.   
The town of Timber was one of the most normal places ever since the Sorceress War had ended. Galbadia had surrendered, and Timber gained independence. Peace reigned supreme. Of course, Squall hated politics. He wanted nothing to do with them anymore. All he cared about was Rinoa, Laguna and Ellone. However, he had not seen Zell, Selphie, Quistis, and...Seifer. He even stood at times, wondering if they had even survived Ultimecia. Seifer was probably dead for the most part. But Squall doubted he would see them before the wedding.  
Squall sat up and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels with a boring expression hung upon his face. He impatiently turned the TV off and trotted down the stairs. Rinoa sat at her easel in the living room, not even noticing that Squall had entered. Laguna sat at the desk, writing an article for Timber Maniacs' upcoming issue  
"'Morning Squall!" Laguna greeted, looking up from the glowing monitor of his computer.   
"Oh...g'morning...Laguna..." Squall responded stagnantly.   
"What a way to greet your dad, huh!" Laguna smiled and turned back to his writing. Squall walked quietly over to Rinoa who was clad loosely in her worn nightgown, brush in hand. He put his hands on her small, soft shoulders and kissed her tenderly on the top of her head.  
"Oh! Squall..." Rinoa squeaked in surprise as she turned to look at him, "Good-Good morning...I just want to get this done today, so...if I could just be left alone?"  
"Oh...well...of course!" Squall said, thinking to himself. She just needed time alone.  
  
~~  
  
Squall walked down the streets of Timber, right outside the plaza. The city was a normal looking urban city which had soon gained it's independence. The market on the other end of the narrow path from the plaza bustled on, people bargaining for a cheaper price.  
"What am I to do with my life...I don't even know what profession I want to be! What can I do that doesn't involve fighting?" Squall thought to himself as he flopped down onto a bench. He buried his head in his hands in frustration. He then shuffled around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. He started to write involuntarily, like some force deep within his mind, writing every thought:  
  
Uncovering hope  
Destroying the despair within  
Banishing the evil  
Revealing thy fate  
  
Flight  
The wings spread across the wind  
Seeing all  
Rejuvenation  
  
And there was peace  
Far across  
For generations  
Then there is the loss...  
  
Squall stared at the scripture, confused, in wonder. What had he written? He sat, dazed, confused. He gained his consciousness and stuffed the paper in his pocket. He sat there for a moment, still confused at why he had written what he had. Never in his life had he written a piece of poetry, let alone a poem such as this. He stood up and headed off, wandering towards no destination, lost in the swamp of thoughts, a trance.  
"Peace...will reign again, but then, how will it end?"  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter I

I  
  
There were the flowers, sitting on the lone, fresh grave, an elaborate tombstone marking the spot where the passed person lay for all eternity. The scripture read few words, simply stating the death of Irvine Kinneas, who died of a drug overdose on April 17, 0023 P.W. Who ever thought that the charming young man was smoking a strange substance. However, the drug slowly ate away at his body, until it destroyed his memory and then his life.  
Quistis Trepe stood in front of the grave, her hands folded by her thighs. She stared at the lonely grave, longing for their beloved Irvine to come back, to comfort Selphie. A breeze flew by, gliding through Quistis' long, silky blonde hair. She grew her hair out after everyone left. It now reached to her waist. She longed to see everyone again; Squall, Rinoa, Zell, even Seifer, who was probably dead by now anyways.  
Quistis stood still for another moment, and then turned on her heel and headed towards the exit of the Balamb Vividarium Cemetary, the majestic tower of Balamb Garden chiming, releasing students from class. The Garden was no longer a military academy, rather a normal school, specializing in engineering and psionics. The swelling, majestic city of Balamb was built around the gigantic tower-academy, four times as large as it was years ago, after the troubles ended.  
Quistis was excepted to teach and train magic in Balamb Garden. She now specialized in the near-extinct art. Society had grown fearful of the power. Magic was indeed the start of the Sorceress War. Quistis was one of the few remaining magic users, along with Rinoa and Squall, two people that she had not seen in five years, five years of emotional turmoil and ripping away. They were all torn from each other, unknowingly, left to wonder when, IF they would ever see each other again.  
Quistis put these thoughts behind her most of the time, like most of the others did. It caused them too much pain, and why feel pain when peace rules over the world? Quistis was a happy, well payed woman of 24 years, a woman who longed to write about the events. She was ambitious, wanted to do absolutely everything that fascinated her. She took up the Celtic harp soon after the war had ended. Her feelings stayed boiling up inside of her. Her harp released those feelings, either anger, loneliness, happiness, longing, joy, as beauty.  
She walked up to the front gates of the garden, ready for another class, another normal morning. As she got inside the closing gate, the sky darkened, and within a second, rain came pouring down like a waterfall. Thunder began to rumble, shaking windows and gales tore through the city. Quistis scuttled quickly under an awning, ducking as if it would block the rain from her body. She looked towards the sky, "How strange, a storm so immediately..." she thought. A minute or two passed, and rather quickly, the sun began to shine, and the rain thinned to a light sprinkle as a bright, vivid rainbow arched over the ocean's horizon.  
Quistis remained, stunned, baffled, and dumbfounded by the random storm. What had that been, a punishment, an omen? She eventually shoed the thought off, and entered the front doors and the entrance areas, and finally into the lobby. Quistis walked nonchalantly across the expansive stone lobby. She overheard "Irvine..." in a gossip session of three girls, probably sixteen or seventeen. Quistis, curious, walked over to the circle of gossiping girls and asked about what they had said.  
"Oh! Someone just died" One of the girls squeaked.  
"Oh...I'm sorry, you just heard that-that Irvine passed away?" Quistis replied in sympathy.  
"No way! That's old news...someone just died!" The girl told Quistis. Quistis stood in shock, puzzled. Quistis asked the girls where the person died, and they told her dormitory A-64B. A look of utter terror emerged onto Quistis' face. She rushed with quickened loud steps down the halls of the dormitories, tears rolling down her soft, white cheeks, her boots clanking loudly, rushing. "No...NO!!! It can't be...please God, just spare me once!" Quistis thought, praying to herself. A-63A, A63B, A-64A, A-64B...the dormitory. Quistis turned the knob hesitantly, her hand shaking in terror. The door glided open, and the most terrible sight was placed before Quistis' eyes. Blood was splashed onto the walls, the carpeting. Papers, pictures, broken glass, posters, lay in shambles across the room. In the middle of the room were six people in a circle, surrounding a body bag. There were a few people in random spots in the room, looking on, crying and screaming. Xu looked up at Quistis, her eyes red and swollen, her face wet and her hair soaked with sweat, as if she had dipped her head in a pool. She walked over to Quistis, still crying. Quistis stared, tears on her face, a look of horror planted on a ghost white face, like that of a vampire.  
"Quistis-Quistis...it's Selphie.... she's dead...sh-she cut her wrists...."  
  
  
  
  



End file.
